


Show and Tell

by Kanoodle



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8815774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanoodle/pseuds/Kanoodle
Summary: “It was foolish.” She turned, casting the full force of her frown at him. “You knew not to touch the stone. You knew it would destroy anything organic. You knew the only safe way to handle the stone was by placing it in a protective unit—”
“I mean, to be fair, I didn’t have a lot of time to—”
“—And yet,” she said, raising her voice to speak over him, “you threw yourself at it and caught it with your bare hand. It was almost as if you hadn’t heard your own mission briefing.” Gamora shook her head and sipped at her drink again. “As I said: foolish.”
for the prompt: things they said when they were happiest





	

Peter Quill was a talkative drunk.

After the Nova Corps medics bandaged them up and gave them a clean bill of health, the team found its way to one of the few open bars left in the area. The smell of dust and the sharp tang of alcohol hung heavy in the darkened room. (“Dark to hide the stains,” Peter had muttered wryly as he held the door open for Gamora.) While the structure itself was mostly whole, one of the windows had shattered, plaster had fallen from the walls and ceiling, and glasses had plummeted from high shelves. A dazed bartender swept away shards and debris in the center of the room, while another stooped behind the counter, picking up the pieces of broken bottles and glassware.

The team, meanwhile, claimed the far corner and sprawled out across two tables, drinking to their victory and to their loss. 

“So. That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done,” Peter told Gamora as they sat together, watching Rocket and Drax carefully potting several twigs at the next table. Before she could respond, he asked, “Where’d they even find those things?”

“The pots? A donation, I think.” She took a sedate sip from her drink.

“Huh.” He seemed to think this over for a moment, seemed to wonder who would see a raccoon holding a bundle of sticks and think, _That guy definitely needs a planter,_ before shaking himself. “Anyway. Terrifying.”

Gamora hummed her agreement.

“Terrifying. Pants-shittingly terrifying. _Poltergeist_ plus _The Shining_ plus _The Exorcist_ plus _The Thing._ Cranked up to eleven.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

He waved, as if dismissing his own words. His face was lightly flushed, but he had yet to reach the point where drink made his words overly sloppy. “Forget it. The point is, that was scary as fuck.”

She hummed again and added, “Also foolish.”

Peter nodded automatically. A second later, the meaning of her words caught up to him, and he scowled. “What do you mean, ‘foolish’?”

“It was foolish.” She turned, casting the full force of her frown at him. “You knew not to touch the stone. You knew it would destroy anything organic. You knew the only safe way to handle the stone was by placing it in a protective unit—”

“I mean, to be fair, I didn’t have a lot of time to—”

“— _And yet_ ,” she said, raising her voice to speak over him, “you threw yourself at it and caught it with your bare hand. It was almost as if you hadn’t heard your own mission briefing.” Gamora shook her head and sipped at her drink again. “As I said: foolish.”

Peter slumped in his seat.

Whatever damage the bar suffered apparently left their sound system intact. Soft, rhythmic music floated through the room, joining the murmur of Rocket and Drax’s conversation. Dirt covered the tabletop and their hands, though they seemed to pay it no mind. Rocket’s mood had improved greatly since their project began, and though tearstains still matted his fur, some of his bluster returned. He even favored Drax with a rare, sharp-toothed smile between verbal barbs.

Drax placed another twig in soil, pressing the dirt firmly around the twig’s base. Between the two of them, they had planted six pieces of Groot’s remains since the newly dubbed Guardians of the Galaxy had arrived in this bar. It seemed improbable that their plan – reviving Groot from planting what remained of him – would actually work; it was no more likely they would find anything left of the Groot they knew in their pots than they would resurrect a man by applying horticultural techniques to his finger, but Gamora refused to voice the thought aloud. It would be cruel to snatch away that slim hope.

It was only as Rocket carefully poured a glass of water into the newly pressed soil that she realized Peter had been silent this whole time. She looked over, surprised by the solemn, withdrawn expression on his face as he stared down at his left hand, flexing his fingers experimentally. 

His voice was vague, distant, when he finally said, “Yeah. You’ve got a point.”

Before she could think too long on it, she reached over, grasping his hand in hers, and he tensed, head jerking up. 

“You were also very brave,” she said. 

After a few silent seconds, some of the tension slowly drained from his shoulders. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a rueful smile. “Thanks.”

She squeezed his hand once before pulling away. “But you’re still a fool.”

He laughed softly. “Fair enough.”

They fell into a more comfortable silence after that, and they watched Drax and Rocket tend to the seven mismatched vessels between them. Bitterness rose to her throat at the sight of the potted twigs and the small bundle of those yet to be planted. Groot had been kind – a quality deeply unsuited for the lifestyle he led – and she found she appreciated it in the short time they spent as allies.

“I don’t know why he did it,” Peter whispered. She glanced over at him, saw his dark mood returning as he stared at Groot’s remains, and she frowned. “I mean, he barely knew us, and we spent so much time at each other’s throats, but he still…”

Admittedly, Gamora wondered the same thing and had been working the puzzle over ever since the Nova Corps had allowed them to leave. She offered the only conclusion she had drawn thus far: “He must have seen something worth saving.”

Peter’s brow furrowed at that, and he seemed to chew her words over. He looked at her askance and asked slowly, “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is that why you took my hand?” His gaze flitted away to examine the poor state of the bar’s ceiling as he added quietly, “You saw something worth saving?”

And that had been part two of the puzzle – Gamora had been raised to care only for herself. To care for others was a weakness; to protect others was a waste of time and resources that would be better spent protecting oneself. They had been lessons she forced herself to unlearn in the span of only a few days, and she knew she had only begun to unravel herself from Thanos’ web. Gamora had made progress in that short time, to be sure, but not enough to undo decades of conditioning.

Yet, in a single moment filled with violet light and smoke and _screams_ , she felt panic and dread and a terrible, frightening _need_ to save that damned idiot from himself.

But for all the stars in the galaxy, she still could not figure out why.

She hesitated, buying some time by drinking from her glass – some sort of sweet, Krylorian wine that fizzed and popped as it filled her mouth. She said at length, “I merely found something in myself that was _incredibly heroic._ ”

Peter barked out an incredulous laugh, shoving her playfully with his shoulder. “You’re the _worst._ ”

Gamora only pursed her lips in response, forcing herself to remain expressionless. Beside her, Peter shifted, swirling a trail of condensation on the table with his forefinger. The team hadn’t bothered to clean up before they arrived here, which was part of why the waitstaff of the bar had dumbly stepped aside and served them when they entered. Soot still stained the skin on Peter’s neck and face, and even in this dim light, she could see the dark red smears of dried blood on his cheek – right where his skin had split when the Infinity Stone nearly tore him asunder.

The reminder made something cold clench in her chest.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” he said quietly, and the shy timbre in his voice pulled Gamora from her dark thoughts. “For—before. For saving me, I mean. No one’s ever… I mean, these were some crazy circumstances, I’ll admit, but I’ve never had anyone…”

He trailed off, bowing his head, and Gamora waited for him to gather himself.

“Just—thanks. Thank you.” Reluctantly, he lifted his head to look at her fully, with an earnestness in his eyes she first saw on a balcony in Knowhere. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t—you know. I don’t think you realize just how glad I am we managed to make it through that mess.”

Across from them, Drax and Rocket discussed what supplies they would need to care for their new garden, once they acquired a new ship, and Gamora felt a bit of warmth rising in her chest at the notion. Only days ago, they were all so _certain_ they would kill each other the moment their alliance ended; now, they were building a home together.

It was completely absurd. 

She said, “I think I have something of an idea.”

Peter blinked at her, surprised, before flashing a wide, toothy grin. “You know, I’m really glad you’re here.”

The naked sincerity in his voice caught her off-guard, and for a long second, she could only stare at him. Still, that boyish smile stayed on his face, and Gamora allowed herself to offer a small, tentative smile in return.


End file.
